Quarter-life crisis

A friend of mine asked me why I don’t write anymore and the answer to that is very simple, I don’t know. I no longer have as much time as I used to is the excuse I always use. Truth be told its just a white lie. If I am really honest with myself time is never really an issue. It is nigh on impossible to not find time for something you love so if you are in the same boat as I am, get up and start writing that book or get started on that painting- I can imagine the headlines-promising artist is sad and miserable in the corporate world because they couldn’t find time to do what they really love doing.

Full disclosure, I have been trying to figure out what I am naturally good at, the seamless effortless kind of good and two things come to mind, making jokes and writing. I sure as hell never pass up an opportunity to land a joke so I am going to do the same for writing-I will try at least. Someone once told me I should write a book, I do not know who but thank you stranger, I will seriously have a think about it or I will make time I should say-you never know it just might be about you.

I suppose another reason for not writing would be just a barrage of developments-both negative and positive. My EQ is probably not as high as my IQ but it is what it is. In an old piece I had promised to take you all on a ride-along of my imperfectly perfect beautiful mess of a mind as oxymoronic as it sounds so I suppose this counts as take one. I was reading some of my old pieces and its just sad how I did not keep at it. Drawing inspiration from something as mundane as staring at a friend was muscle memory.

I will not drone on and on about sad stuff so if you don’t know me, I am a software developer trying to figure life out. Curious to see how that turns out, stay tuned.

_storyteller00

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Mortality Paradox

I recently came across a tweet that said the saddest part about life is: ‘all this, just to die’ and as absurdly morbid as it sounds, you can take that to the bank. Its face value is exactly that: whatever life you lead, however lavish, however desolate, the endgame is one.  It indeed is profoundly sad to think you could land the job of your dreams, scholarship of your dreams and not even wake up tomorrow. All you worked for, all you prayed and hoped for finally fulfilled and life or death I should say, excuse the pun, just takes it all away before it's even yours.  It really is truly tragic and insurmountably terrifying how cruel life can be in that regard which indeed does beg the question, all this for what? Oh how I wish I had the answer to that but I haven't got a clue and if I had a sit-down with our maker before my time, that'd be my first question.  Steve Jobs said something about living everyday like it's your last because one day you'll be right and my wor...
Read more

The Sometimes Futile Pursuit of Happiness

It is utterly impossible to disregard aforementioned title I know, and as depressing as it sounds, said pursuit sometimes proves me right plenty.  Overlooking the morbidity, I do drive a solid point or two I believe. To begin with, what really is happiness? Well, happiness is entirely case dependent, at least in my opinion. Here's what I mean, for some happiness is spouse, kids and lots of grandkids, for others happiness means something in the lines of top 30 under 30, CEO of a Fortune 500, something in those lines.  Only things that's standard is the the journey towards what happiness means to you. Having that one girl you want who's right there but just can't get her and having that big promotion just out of reach does hurt all the same. It's like dangling a steaming tomahawk steak in the face of a  former grill chef turned vegetarian. It all begs the question what to do to be happy? Well, I suppose this question is better posed at Yoda or a magic 8 ball.  Everyth...
Read more

Home time

It's close of business again, well, a little past close of business and I'm on my way home. Fresh out of a 12-hour shift, I can't decide if I'll eat first when I get home or just collapse into slumber right at the door. In the matatu, I could swear everyone is deliberating the very same decision Iam. Soft music plays on classic FM as if trying to remedy our tired bodies and mind. Just about everyone is on their phones. If I listen intently enough, I can almost hear the pitter patter of their thumbs going at it with the keyboard. In essence, everyone is in their own little world, only brought back to this realm by the conductor demanding his due. He passes around a tiny piece of paper with his mpesa number on it and we, who are cashless, calmly wait for our turn. After confirming the mpesa receiver's name, everyone runs back to their screens but not without throwing a pitiful glance at the long, long chain of cars also called Thika road. Iam not a mind reader but I ...
Read more